Sunday, February 5, 2017

IT'S IN THE CARDS: THE SHUFFLES OF LIFE



NINE-CARD GRID

It was blowing snow this morning as I watched a thirty-something fellow in his hospital jammies and robe run past my RDX. (I was on my way home from Gold’s Gym.)   
I’m assuming he was AWOL from the Psychiatric Ward at the General Hospital, near where I live.  Reflecting on this … I should have beeped my horn and offered him a ride to wherever.  I was going the opposite direction when he ran by and I did make a U turn in this attempt but … he disappeared.

This blog is about the shuffle of life and about the cards that we’re dealt, the cards we’re dealt again and again.  Presumably, this runaway patient was trying to re-shuffle the deck in his life, in his current situation, as all of us are constantly re-shuffling and re-reading the cards we’re dealt.

Some of us, guys like me, were dealt a winning hand from the get-go.  I’m tall (six foot one); I’m dark (but now a bleached California surfer); I’m very middle-class; and I’m male sex and gender.  None of these aforementioned privileges were earned; they just are.

Recently I went for a card reading, the perfect example of projective psychology in commercial action.  For one hundred dollars, under the direction of the card seer, I re-evaluated my life, accordingly, to my desired outcome.

Reading regular decks of cards is called CARTOMANCY.   Here are some of the most common readings:

KING OF HEARTS … a loving male family member.
QUEEN OF HEARTS … a loving female family member.
KING OF DIAMONDS … a wealthy male in a position of authority.
QUEEN OF DIAMONDS … a wealthy female in a position of authority.
KING OF CLUBS … a business man with sexual desire.
QUEEN OF CLUBS … a business woman with social desire.
KING OF SPADES … an ambitious male outsider who is arrogant and deceptive.
QUEEN OF SPADES … an ambitious female outsider who is cold and calculating.

Some other divines from a regular deck suggest that HEARTS represent WATER, DIAMONDS represent EARTH, CLUBS represent FIRE, and SPADES represent AIR.

Typically, the client will shuffle the deck as much as is satisfactory to the client and then the diviner offers three-card spreads.  From left to right those three-card spreads represent the past, present, and future.  These three-card spreads usually extend up to a nine-card grid, three cards in three rows.

Cartomancy is really another form of projective testing.  Projective tests, usually reserved for therapeutic settings, provide the client-participant with an ambiguous stimulus, which in turn reveals the underlying motivations and attitudes of those client-participants.  The most famous projective test is the Rorschach Inkblot (see my blog, INKSPOTS AND BLOGSPOTS: A BUSKOLOGIST PERSPECTIVE published March 20th, 2016).

A card diviner/reader/seer has the unique esemplastic ability to shape all of these singular cards distributed on the nine-card grid, into a whole and unified life projection (picture).  And so, too, does the client, under the guidance of the seer.  So when and if the KING or QUEEN OF SPADES shows up, look out! I think you get the picture.

A thumbnail sketch of my reading:   

I am intelligent and outgoing (which I’m sure was determined not by the cards, but by the phatic chat before my cards were dealt).  I am having difficulty with someone close; someone in my life is both greedy and angry; I am destined to travel; I need to immediately take the reins of my own sweet chariot.

That fellow on the run through the snow banks, still in his hospital vestments, was at the very least, in the throes of attempting to grapple with the reins of his own chariot.  In our social and work lives rarely do we get to deal our own cards, and once the cards are dealt, we have little option but to play the cards we’ve been dealt.  Most of us play our cards with the accords of social convention; whereas, there is always a statistical few who do not.  The number of people committing crime, for example, is a number that is static.  Playing a game of solitaire is not only lonely, it is delusional.  We primates of the human condition are featherless and gregarious creatures, loving the notion of community and social competition.  Not many among us prefer to be scriveners in dimly lit libraries or in the moonlit stairwells of lighthouses.  Not many among us want someone else to shuffle our playing cards or ... to mix the metaphor ... take over the reins of our chariots.

Meanwhile, back at the busking ranch …

As a projective test, the cards can certainly be energizing and enlightening for some, while being enervating and draining for others.  Human life is macedoine of struggle and success, and wherever we happen to be in either a struggle or success, we all been knocked about and knackered to get there.  Admittedly, cartomancy seems to better fit those for us who tend to be laissez-faire or libertine in attitude, each card a memento of what WE REALLY WANT TO DO.  No matter how many times we shuffle the deck, our cards will always read that we can do what WE REALLY WANT TO DO.  

We buskers most certainly fall into the catalogue of laissez-faire and/or the libertine catalogue of the human condition.  And because we can be catalogued as such ...  

Buskers are among those who have gripped the reins of their own chariots, with little regard for the optics of other social judges.




Sunday, January 29, 2017

DOC AND THE DIDGERING DRIFTER: THE MEANING AND PURPOSE OF LIFE



 
Blowing my didge whilst strumming
 
I hate funerals.  I hate funerals and I know why.

Churches are where beautiful faces marry beautiful faces
and
Where the wrinkled ones bury their dead.  
 (I wrote this poem in 1977.) 

Funerals remind me of my mortality.  I guess I just don’t want to die.  It’s as simple as that.   I am afraid to be dead.  Though I’ve been close to death twice and survived twice (obviously), I know that I’m not immortal.  

My first brush with death is the time I got shot; the second brush was when I was driving down a rain-drenched highway.

It was summertime and I was 13.  I was riding a horse crossing over a bridge on the Notekeu Creek.  Friends of mine were in a rowboat floating down the creek, shooting frogs with their .22 rifles.  Seeing me, they gleefully decided to startle the horse, shooting at the base of the bridge, hoping the horse would buck.  The horse did buck and the boat rocked and a stray bullet went into my back, through my right shoulder blade there it lodged until our country doctor pulled it out with a set of three foot thongs.  I spent the rest of the summer in hospital.

The second death near miss I was 20 years old and driving 80 miles per hour down a rain-drenched 43 Highway heading east between the Saskatchewan towns of Vanguard and Gravelbourg.  My car began to hydroplane and it slid into a 360 degree turn in the right lane of the road.  At the start of the drift, heading for the ditch, I remember thinking I don’t have my seatbelt on, and I knew I was likely going to die in a rollover.  But I never hit the ditch.  In seemingly slow motion my car spun a complete 360 right on the road top!  Whew!  My jitters lasted a week after and not-so-strangely returning now as I write about it.

Anyway, after attending a funeral I contemplate life, my life, contemplating the antediluvian questions:  What is the meaning of life?  What is the purpose of MY life?

  • What is the meaning of life? 

Hmmm … I think we can all agree that life is a vortex of calm and angst, pleasure and pain, love and hate, resolve and regret -- to live is to suffer, the skinny of Zen, so to speak.

For theists, the planet majority of faithful Christians simply insist that God has a plan.  
For the positive psychologists, the meaning of life is to utilize our strengths for an investment in something larger than ourselves.  For neuroscientists, all we do as humans is to behave toward pleasure and reward, and motivation, motivation being mostly for more pleasure and reward.
For the evolutionist, the meaning is simply sexual, to procreate and continue the species.
Parapsychologists insist there is, in the big cosmos sweep, a cosmic consciousness, to which we all ought to contribute in our hippy-dippy ways.  Of course, some of us are more fervent in this regard than others.

No matter … it does seem like some of us need a reason or a purpose for existing.  I am one of those people, and it does appear that I, and others of this ilk, are totally alone and responsible in discovering this particular purpose for ourselves. 

Factoid:  
Only when I decide my life purpose, will I enjoy a deep sense of satisfaction for the rest of my days.

And so

  • What is the purpose of MY life?
And what, pray Lord (irony intended) do I have to do to determine my life path for the next 13 years?  (I say 13 years because … accordingly, females on the Western side of the planet live until they are 82; males live until 78.  I am a 65 year old addlepated male, and so I’ve just 13 years left.  Yikes!  I’m hoping 13 is not my lucky number.)  I’ll begin my search without, to seek my answer within.

I’ll begin with a Zen-to-go summary of therapies for which I’m braggartly proficient.


  • Reality Therapy (RT) was my first academic study and it served me well.  RT got me into guidance, got me into private practice, got me my Master’s degree in Educational Psychology.

Who are you? What do you want? What are you been doing about it? Is doing what you’re doing working for you?  (Of course it is not … because if it were working … YOU WOULDN’T BE HERE.)

  • Solution-Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT) was my first pragmatic system when I did contract work.  (The agency I for which I contracted insisted that I follow this model.)

SFBT is characterized by the rather hypnotic Miracle Question (MQ).  You wake up one morning and YOUR PROBLEM IS GONE … How would you know?  Describe your imaginary problem-free day …. How would your life be if it were perfect? … And so when you wake up tomorrow morning behave exactly as if your world was perfect and everyone around you is responding according to your perfect world picture.

  • Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is another model I employed at yet another counseling agency.

CBT is a behavior therapy purportedly combined with simultaneous reflection and introspection.

  • Hypnotherapy is now my favorite.  Hypnotherapy is therapist suggested imagery creating for the client surreal experiences to be re-enacted immediately thereafter.

Therapy knowledge is fine, but how does therapy fit into world notions about life purpose?  Hmmm … again … here is another Zen-to-go summary, this time on world views.

  • Utilitarianism is the greatest happiness principle.  Whatever brings the greatest happiness to the greatest number of people is the way to do life.

  • Nihilism means life is without any objective meaning, a God-is-dead determining direction.

  • But if there are no objective values, does this mean that life is meaningless?  From this thinking, Existential psychotherapy comes quickly to mind.

From the existentialist view, if life has no objective meaning, then one seeking meaning must simply create a life meaning from within.  I can do this; subjectively I can find my purpose.

Writing, I believe, is an extension of thinking, and as I’ve written over the years, there is one particular theme that seems always in concert with this blog.  I am a BUSKOLOGIST.  I am a BUSKEROO.  And because I’m a buskologist and buskeroo, I could certainly be a traveling minstrel, similar to those medieval poets and musicians who sang while thrumming their stringed instruments.  Yes, I could be an itinerant troubadour, a singer especially of folk songs.

BARON AND I SINGING ORIGINAL FOLK SONGS TODAY AT VALUE VILLAGE
Alas, my guitar suits such a billing but my didgeridoo does not. 

A didgeridoo player is called a didgeridoo player or a didge player or a didger or a didgeridooer or a dooer.  A drifter is one who follows the fun from locale to another, moving on when the laughter in any particular locale is gone.

Hmmm … What would a traveling didgeridoo player be called?  a DRIFTING DIDGERIDOOER?  a DRIFTING DOO’ER?

Yesterday afternoon I presented this question to Craig, Erin, and Doug (B SHARP guitar shop staff) and within a blink, Doug came up with DIDGERING DRIFTER!   (Thank you, Doug!)

DIDGERING DRIFTERa world drifter who plays the didgeridoo and lives life as a series of discoveries.

And aha epiphany!  I could be an Adonic didgering drifter.  Aha!  Aha!  Aha!

(Factoid:  This is hardly a sea change from my present condition.)

In my CHAUCERIAN PARADE today I’ve only one, who is no longer marching, the grandfather of my very best friend, Colby Williams.  Here is Doc’s obit:



Duane "Doc" WILLIAMS


Duane "Doc" Williams
April 18, 1929 - January 13, 2017
Our lives have been incredibly changed since our much loved father/grandfather Doc passed away on January 13, 2017. He was predeceased by his parents, Dorothy and Roy Williams; his brothers, Jimmy and Ken Williams; and his sister, Margaret Hewson. He is survived by his children, Marcia, Marc and Lisa, Jamie, Tyler and Leslie; and his grandchildren, Haley, Colby, MacKenzie and Drew. Doc was born on a farm near Leross, SK. He spent his youth working on the farm, playing ball and playing music in the surrounding area. It is not surprising that he met Grace, the love of his life, on the ball field. They remained inseparable until she passed away in June 2009. After they moved to Regina, Doc worked at Ipsco for almost 30 years. Music and sports continued to be a big part of his life. Initially he played ball with the Regina Red Sox Baseball Team and Kappy Kaplan's Royals Fastball Team and continued to play for 30 + years in the Regina Men's Softball League. During the winter months, he played hockey, curled and spent evenings at home playing the banjo, guitar and organ. As time went on, he became a player/coach on teams with his sons and nephews and continued to coach them all for many years. One of Doc's greatest joys was his grandchildren. In the early years he shared his love of music with them and initiated many games in the back yard. He passed his athletic prowess and love of sports on to his children and his legacy continues to live on through his grandchildren. It gave him great pleasure to watch them over the years. Some of our greatest family gatherings were on a ball field or in a hockey rink. We have lost a great friend but take joy in knowing he has gone to join his best friend. Please join us in a celebration of Doc's life: Heritage United Church, Saturday, January 21, 2:00 p.m. - 5:00 p.m. Program to start by 2:15 p.m. We welcome people to share "Doc" memories during the program. In lieu of flowers ...coach a team.


In professional hockey circles, the best descriptor of a person is “He’s a good guy.”  (Don Cherry and Brad Hornung will back me up on this.) 

DOC WAS A GOOD GUY!


Monday, December 26, 2016

VISIONS OF SUGARPLUMS: THE CHRISTMAS INDEPENDENCE OF IRRELEVANT ALTERNATIVES SOLUTION



Nestled all snug in my bed, visions of sugar plums dance in my head, and thanks to Professor Sidney Morgenbesser, in madcap and gustatory fashion, so too, does this sweet Independence of Irrelevant Alternatives axiom dance in my head:

After finishing dinner at her favorite downtown eatery, Sadie decides to order a slice of pie. The server tells her she has two choices, apple or blueberry.  Sadie orders the blueberry.  After a few minutes the server returns with the added information that cherry pie now, too, is available.   “Hmmm … I’ll have the apple pie then, a la mode,” says Sadie.  

Despite Sadie first having ordered blueberry when there were only two choices of pie, the option of having a slice of blueberry pie when the cherry pie became available, was brought forth, as a supposedly irrelevant alternative, caused Sadie to switch her decision.  Sadie’s decision making fails to adhere to the Independence of Irrelevant Alternatives (IIA) axiom.
WTF! 

With behavior in Psychology as a response to external and internal stimuli and/or the action by which an organism adjusts to its environment, why would Sadie behave in such a manner?

All behavior is purposeful, according to American psychiatrist, William Glasser.

And oftentimes behavior is the veneer for angst and insecurity, according to Canadian economist, Travers Child.  

In the case of Sadie and the apple pie, I do believe it is Sadie’s angst which causes her to behave in a seemingly irrelevant alternative action.

Déjà vu will help explain.  You know déjà vu, that feeling of familiarity, that crazy sense of recollection.   Perhaps Sadie is unconsciously recalling an experience. 

Let us imagine that Sadie (I’m making this up) is from the rural west part of the country.  Let us imagine that Sadie grew up in rodeo and orchard county heartland, a place abound with cowboys and fruit pies.

Let us imagine that Sadie had one time witnessed some cowboys at a pie-eating contest at the Berry-Cherry Pie Festival somewhere in her past, when she was around 13 years old.  After attending the Berry-Cherry pie-eating contest she and her friend, Claire went over to visit Sadie’s Aunt Gladys.   

Let us imagine that her Aunt Gladys had just baked a couple blueberry and cherry pies, and those pies were cooling on the window sill when Sadie and Claire arrived.

“You girls need some pie,” insisted Aunt Gladys as she set two pies, one blueberry and cherry, on the kitchen table right in front of both girls.   And then began the pie-eating contest between Sadie and Claire, and ending only with the over-stuffed pie-eating Sadie vomiting right onto the kitchen table.

(I apologize to those gluttonous pie-eating cowboys who ride the rodeo in the Western heartland.)

Hmmm … Could it be that Sadie wants to subdue her memory togetherness of blueberry and cherry pie, and even removing this particular memory more so by adding a scoop of ice cream to her slice of apple pie order.

Meanwhile back at the ranch … and not dancing in esoteric fashion as the above mentioned sugarplum solution, are those marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE:

Alfred is from the Norman Wells in the Canadian North West Territories; Jared is from Regina, Saskatchewan.  Alfred and Jared are both students at the Regina downtown Adult Campus and both are guitar-slingers ...

ALFRED AND JARED
Jared and I were asked to strum some tunes at the Adult Campus Christmas dinner ...

JARED AND SELF

Some CHILD FAMILY photos ...

The poster boy for wall climbing in Amsterdam …

TRAVERS
My favorite drummer, our last busk together before the snow …

BARON

 Just before the holidays ...


NATIKA AND EDEN

And to wrap … a loving thank-you to my wife … and always our CHRISTMAS GLUE …

OUR GRANDDAUGHTER, EDEN WITH CAROL ... MY CHRISTMAS GLUE